A lesson to remember
by SSC
Summary: A young Albus Dumbledore meets Ollivander, and they talk. About werewolves, vampires, and what Dark Creatures are.
1. Diagon Alley

_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JK Rowling owns all._

**A lesson to remember.**

The drizzly summer rain had turned into a full-blown storm, which made the stony street of Diagon Alley very slippery. The new school year was in a few days, but no student was mad enough to go shopping when it rained like this. Many shopkeepers had closed their shops early, because of the lack of customers. No sane wizard would go outside today, not even with a Nonpluvius Charm.

No wizard, except one.

A young boy clad in a dark blue cloak hurried across the street, searching for a shelter against the rain. He cursed himself for not having listened to his older brother, who had claimed the weather would get worse. He was so excited to finally go to Hogwarts... And he hadn't thought that all the shops would be closed. Now he still couldn't get his school supplies.

His mother would be worried by now. He'd left her a note, telling her he'd gone to Diagon Alley. They had recently moved and now they lived nearby, in an apartment in London, so the walk to the Leaky Couldron wasn't very long. Now he wished he had stayed home with Aberforth.

Thunder made the Gringott's building shudder. The boy looked wide-eyed at the threathening sky. Oh, no.

Lightning was attracted by magic. The stores all had a protection charm on them, but he hadn't. He needed to find shelter, and fast! If only one of the stores had been open...

There! A narrow, shabby-looking shop, right between the second-hand robe shop and 'Marvin's Muggle Bookshop'. Gold lettering above the door said: 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC'. It didn't look very promising, but he didn't mind; all that mattered was the lonely word on the door: 'Open'.

He hurried to the door, and yanked it open. A bell tinkled as he stepped inside.

At first glance it seemed very empty, except for the chair standing in the middle of the room. But then he noticed the walls were invisible because of the boxes that were piled against them, and the whole backside of the shop was filled with rows and rows of narrow boxes.

The silence was deafening. He shivered, and it wasn't because of the icy rainwater that run off his cloak. The air itself seemed to humm against his skin.

'Good evening,' said a soft voice suddenly. With a start he turned around, to see two pale eyes watching him.

'Hello,' he said, twiddling with his cloak fastenings. The silvery eyes followed his every move. It made him nervous.

The thin man stepped out of the shade, and stalked closer. 'I don't believe we have met, young man. I am Ollivander, Quinten Ollivander. You are going to Hogwarts this year?'

'Er, yes, mr Ollivander.' The pale eyes were quite unnerving. He suddenly remembered it was polite to introduce himself. 'I'm Albus Dumbledore. Well, actually, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, but that's ridiculously long.'

Amusement crept in the moonlight-colored eyes. 'I presume you are here to purchase a wand?'

Albus glanced around. He hadn't planned on buying something, but he needed to buy a wand anyway. 'Yes, mr.'

'Very well.' Mr Ollivander took out some measuring tape, which started measuring the lenght between Albus' nostrils immediatly. 'Which is your wand arm?'

Albus' eyes followed the measuring tape, that was curling around his left kneecap. 'Er, I'm right-handed.'

Mr Ollivander called the measuring tape back, and took a box from the shelves. With the utmost care he opened it and took the lightbrown wand out.

'Maple, 7 inches, Unicorn hair. Quite hard.' He gave the wand to Albus. 'Give it a wave.'

He obeyed. Nothing happened.

It was the same with the next wand, and the one after that, and after that... After waving what seemed an endless stream of wands, Albus started to get desperate. What if he needed to get a wand made for him personally? It had happened before, but that was way to expensive... Mother didn't earn that much with her job in Muggle London. He'd never be able to go to Hogwarts!

The voice of mr Ollivander pierced his thoughts. 'Relax, child. Remember, the wand chooses the wizard. That this takes so long is a sign of your possible capabilities.'

'Excuse me sir, but what do you mean?' Albus asked, while he gave the latest wand back.

Mr Ollivander's eyes gleamed. 'The less powerful a wizard is, the more wands might agree with him, therefore, he finds a wand sooner.'

Albus frowned a little. He didn't understand this, not really, but it didn't matter as long as he found the right wand. Or the right wand found him. Or something. This was confusing...

The next wand did make something happen, but not what he wanted. The 'Yew, 13 inches, Dragon blood,' somehow levitated the heavy silver candlestick from the counted and right on mr Ollivander's foot.

Mr Ollivander mumbled a curse in latin.

Albus dropped the wand hurriedly. 'Oops. I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to –' Albus started to apologize, but he quieted when he saw the two fangs protruding over the other man's lower lip. _'Vampire!'_ Albus' mind screamed.

Albus blinked. One. Twice. Then he yelped and ran to the door. He managed two steps outside, but when lightning scorched the ground before his feet he hurried back and closes the door agian. Oh, no! Stuck between a vampire and lightning, how was he supposed to get out of this alive?

Fearfully he glanced at mr Ollivander. The fangs had retracted again and the man looked worried.

'You don't need to fear, child. I have not harmed any human since I opened this store, and I'm not planning to start.'

'But you're a vampire! Y- you drink people's _blood_,' Albus stuttered.

Ollivander inclined his head. 'Yes, that is true. But that does not make me evil. You need not fear me, young mr Dumbledore.'

'All Dark Creatures are evil,' Albus insisted. 'You're just trying to make me feel at ease so you can attack me.'

Mr Ollivander thought that very amusing. 'Child, you don't even have a wand. If I truly wanted to harm you, I could have done that the moment you stepped into this store.'

Albus had to admit the truth when he heared it. The thought didn't make him calm down, however.

'Does the Ministry know?'

'Of course. They merely choose not to acknowledge it because I am the best Wandmaker in this part of the world. After all, I do have a lot of practise.' He smiled.

Albus wasn't convinced. But with the lightening outside, what choice did he have but to remain? Neccesity makes strange friends.

Ollivander had a question of his own. 'Why do you think all Dark Creatures evil?'

'They just are,' Albus mumbled. 'Everyone says it.'

'Perhaps, but why?'

How should he know? 'Er, because they kill people, I suppose.'

Ollivander arched an eyebrow. 'And what about dragons, those whose only contact with humans is by dragon hunters trying to kill them for their heart and scales? Are they evil because they eat every human they encounter?'

'Well, no, I think I can understand that. But dragons aren't Dark Creatures,' reasoned Albus.

The vampire smiled. 'What are Dark Creatures then?'

A question straight from one of the books Albus got for last Christmas. 'Dark Creatures are Beasts or Beings that are created by Dark magic or that were born with Dark magic.'

'So according to you, a werewolf is evil.'

'Of course.'

'Even though they are human every day and the most nights of the month?'

Albus was silent for a moment. Again, a truth he could not deny.

'Okay, so werewolves aren't really evil. They still kill people if they have the chance. It's their instinct.'

'Yes,' Ollivander agreed. 'As it is the instinct of a vampire to bite humans. But not all creatures are as bound by their instincts as a werewolf, which is exactly why you don't need to worry about me.'

'You're saying vampires aren't dangerous?'

'No. I did not say that. I said that most creatures – vampire or otherwise – can have enough control over their instincts to function normally in the world. Alas, not all of us go through the trouble of trying. And that is why we get such a bad name.'

'Oh.'

'Instinct isn't evil, child. Instinct is merely that: instinct. It's nature's way of ensuring survival. Like a fledgling vampire without sire knows to evade the sun. Or like a young dragon knows to hunt so he won't starve.'

'Or like some babies quiet when they sense danger.' Albus frowned. This was interesting. 'Which creatures can't control their instincts?'

Ollivander looked thoughtful. 'A werewolf when the moon is full. Dementors, also. They cannot help but be drawn to emotions to feed upon. Boggarts. A Basilisk can control itself, but won't try unless a Parselmouth commands it. Young ones of many species have a hard time learning control. Et cetera.'

Albus nodded. He only had one more question. 'If you didn't plan on biting me, why did your fangs show?'

'You are a curious young man,' Ollivander smiled. 'My fangs lenghten automaticly by strong emotions. In this case, pain. That wand is certainly not meant for you.'

Albus looked at the wand he'd dropped on the floor. He had totally forgotten about it. 'Oh.'

He picked it up and gave it back to mr Ollivander. 'I'm sorry, sir. For a lot of things.'

'I understand, and I forgive you.' The vampire smiled again. 'Now, let's concentrate on finding a wand that fits you.'

After another bunch of wands without any effects, Ollivander offered him another one. The thunder startled Albus, followed by a lightning bolt when he touched the base of the wand.

Warmth engulfed him; suddenly, it didn't matter anymore that he was still dripping wet, and his legs hurt from standing so long.

He waved it. Red and Gold sparks in the shape of a Phoenix showered the room in light, before they faded again.

'Hawthorn, 10 inches, Phoenix feather. Quite swishy. Congratulations, young mr Dumbledore. I see we can expect great things from you.'

Albus blushed. He payed for the wand, and noticed the clouds were disappearing slowly. Mr Ollivander offered him a cup of tea. Albus sat down on the chair gratefully while he enjoyed his cup. Together they watched the sky become a clear blue once more.

Albus placed his cup back on the saucer when he was finished. 'I should be going back. My mum will be worried.'

'It has been a few hours since you came here,' Ollivander agreed. 'Much luck with your wand, young mr Dumbledore.'

Albus smiled. His blue eyes twinkled. 'Thank you. I promise to visit sometimes. And thank you for answering my questions.'

'Anytime, child. Just come here and we'll discuss the world over a cup of tea.'

The boy grinned, waved, and left the store, with his new wand quietly humming in his bag.

Ollivander smiled, looking at the bend Albus just disappeared behind.

That boy would be a great wizard one day.

* * *

_And, what do you think? I've always imagined Ollivander to be a vampire, strangely enough. I'm not happy with the title. Anyone an idea? Oh, and I'm actually Dutch, so I'm sorry for all the grammatical errors you find._


	2. 1891

**A lesson to remember: part 2**

**1891**

:-:

Ollivander ran the knife slowly, carefully, over the rough wooden length in his hand. It was a piece of oak that had just started the exciting journey from stick to wand.

According to his calculations – taking in the proper stand of the moon, the length of time the wood had been soaked in the bowl of purifying solution, the time it had been harvested, the amount of ants that had crawled across it, all those things – this wand would be best matched with a dragon heartstring. The core still needed to be prepared, but there was plenty of time. You couldn't hurry wandmaking. Ollivander finished about one wand a week, and that was only thanks to his centuries of experience.

He let his senses flow into the wood, carefully making contact with its spirit. He became aware that the wand was too long: he followed his instincts as a wandmaker and chipped at the tip until the wand was a neat sixteen inches. Sturdy, yet bendy. And dragon heartstring. Yes.

Ollivander just put the wood into the sparkling water to soak a second time when his sensitive ears detected a muffled sound in front of his shop.

He went to the shop, closing the door of his workroom behind him. The shop was empty, of course: he couldn't work on a wand if he was disturbed by customers all day. The sound he was hearing came from the other side of his front door, and it sounded suspiciously like someone was crying.

He unlocked the door and was greeted by the sight of a young boy that hurriedly wiped the tears away with his sleeve. Ollivander recognized him as Albus Dumbledore, whom he'd had a pleasant conversation with only a few days ago.

At Ollivander's surprised look the boy seemed startled.

"I shouldn't have come," he mumbled, shaking his head even as fresh tears wetted his cheeks. "It's just that I needed to talk to someone and I hate it _so much_, I _hate_ them, and now mum wants to move again and I don't know where -"

Ollivander stepped aside to let the distraught boy in. "Mr. Dumbledore, please come inside. I'll put some tea on – it'll help you calm down."

The boy followed his lead and soon he sat on the couch in Ollivander's small sitting room. Albus was staring blankly at the cup of tea in his hand. He'd already taken a sip, which Ollivander was grateful for: the vampire had laced the tea with a very light Calming Potion, since it was obvious young Dumbledore could use it.

Ollivander sipped his own tea, that was pinker than Dumbledore's and was laced with something else entirely.

"Are you feeling better now?" He asked softly. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Albus took a large gulp of tea and nodded. His hands were still shaking, Calming Potion or not: something serious must have happened, then.

"It's about m-my si-sister," he answered. "She's very hurt." The potion had kicked in: his voice didn't shake as much anymore.

"She was just taking a walk when three Muggle boys attacked her, and Father saw them, and now he's going to _Azkaban_ and Ariana is hurt and _no-one cares_ about what the Muggles did, they deserved it but Ariana and Father didn't! _I hate them!_"

So much for the Calming Potion: the dose wasn't strong enough to contain this kind of anger. This would become a difficult conversation.

In bits and pieces Ollivander coaxed the whole story out of Albus: in which way Ariana had been hurt, when it had all happened, what his father had done to the boys to deserve Azkaban.

When he eventually stopped talking, his voice scratchy from use, Ollivander poured him another cup of tea, deep in thought.

"Do you know why the Ministry is so lenient for the Muggles?"

Albus sneered, which gave his normally sweet face an ugly look. "Because Muggles are stupid and can't defend themselves against magic. Ariana couldn't defend herself either, but they don't care about _that_."

"That's a popular misconception. The Ministry is lenient for Muggles because we are afraid they _will_ defend themselves."

"I'm sorry sir, but I find that hard to believe."

"Have you heard of the Witch Hunts? The burnings?"

Albus shrugged. "I've read that no one really got hurt, thanks to the flame-freezing charm."

"Was it a Ministry approved book?"

The question seemed so odd that Albus actually paused. His quick mind leapt to a conclusion. "You mean it's not true? There were people who got _burned_?"

Ollivander nodded, his face grim. "You need a wand and a free arm to use the Freezing Charm, after all. When the Muggles noticed their witches weren't burning to death, they made sure to bind their victim tighter to the stake the next time." He sipped his tea, his eyes hooded. "A lot of falsely accused Muggles were burned too."

Albus looked horrified. "And the Ministry keeps this secret? Why?"

"How do you think the Wizarding World would react? They would urge for revenge, they would hate everything Muggle. That wouldn't only be a problem for the Muggleborns and Halfbloods, who are innocent of all this, but eventually their vengeance actions would reveal the existence of magic to the Muggles and they would retaliate."

"But of course we would win, right? They don't stand a chance against magic."

Ollivander raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't bet on that. There is strenght in numbers, and there are many more Muggles than there are Magic users in the world. Besides, they are inventive. They might find a way. That is why the Ministry fears them so."

Albus shook his head. "It's still not fair."

"Few things are," Ollivander quietly agreed.

In the thoughful silence that fell, they drank their tea.

:-:


End file.
